Poking the Vamp (Knight Protectors #3) (3 page)

Four feet? No, three. Then two. Then… Soft hair teased his arm, the strands light and delicate against his skin. Skin that quickly warmed with just that simple touch. She reached across him, breasts pressed to his shoulder and he knew now was the time to strike. Before it was too late, before she was dragged off by another for a meal.

To
be
their meal.

Her weight shifted, heat easing away, telling him she retreated. He was aware of her shadow moving across him, her arm thinning as her wrist neared his face.

And then it was too much. Too sweet. Too hot. Too perfect for him to ignore.

He wasn’t careful or tentative. He didn’t coo and soothe like others. Joce took what he desired. He was a vampire and the humans were in the manse with the agreement they were food.

He did feel slightly bad about surprising her though. He hadn’t played the bogeyman with his meals since he was two hundred and thirty-four.

His hands moved while his thoughts remained half formed, muscles remembered to do their jobs before his mind caught up. Her wrist was captured, firm hands holding her still despite her struggles. He opened his mouth wide, fangs fully descended, and brought her wrist to his lips. Her skin warmed him and he couldn’t wait for the heat of her blood on his tongue. He listened to the rush of the life-giving fluid through her veins and then… he listened to something else.

“What are you doing, asshole?” Her shout echoed through the room. “I’m not dinner! I’m your doctor!” A small hand slapped at his face, landing on his nose, a smack accompanying each yelled word. “I. Am. Not. Dinner. Bad vamp.”

The ache in his gut grew stronger, stomach demanding he feed on her and no other. Forever and always
her
.

But she treated him as if he was a puppy and that… was funny. No, it was unacceptable and he’d tell her that. Didn’t make him laugh any less though. A small human swatting at him as if he were a Pomeranian.

Even if he’d laugh about it later, he couldn’t let her get away with it now.

Joce released her hand, smiling when a relieved sigh eased past her lips. Too bad she wasn’t getting away from him. When she went to withdraw, he captured her more firmly. Fingers wrapping around her upper arms, he rolled until he had her beneath him, laid out along the narrow bed.

He captured her flailing arms with one hand, holding her wrists securely above her head and spreading her out for him. He easily slipped one knee between her thighs, securing one leg with his own. The more she kicked and hit with the other, the more she spurred his desire.

She fought and yelled—attacked—showing him the passion she kept bottled. Had others witnessed and experienced such a thing?

He would kill them all. But first he had to sate himself with the female, take the strength from her blood, and then he would destroy every vampire who dared taste her.

She was his. Human or not, she belonged to him now. She warmed him and banished the constant chill of never ending life. He nuzzled her neck, fang scraping a hint of her flesh and a tiny bead of blood rose to the surface. The sugary copper liquid teased his nose and he couldn’t resist her. He lapped at the tiny wound, tongue flicking out and gathering the single droplet.

Ambrosia. Perfection. The Holy Grail, Heaven and Hell in one. He swallowed it, letting it filter through his body and he embraced the new sensations that assaulted him.

It wasn’t merely the warmth of a body, but fire that—

Rough hands grabbed him, freezing the skin heated by the female and he fought the restraining grips that held him. He was pulled until he stood upright in the middle of the room, leaving the female on the bed.

They shouted his name as they battled to confine him and he knew who’d captured him.

Vampires. Friends. Protectors.

“Joce!”
Griffin.

“Dammit, Joce!”
Liam
.

“Fucker.” That was Trewe’s growl.

“Dick.” The snarl came from Trewe’s twin, Tybalt.

Nearly half the ring was in the room and he knew the spaces were not large. But he didn’t care about them. He cared about
her
. The woman now crawling across the small bed—away from him—until her back collided with the wall.

Brown hair with a hint of gold. Brown eyes that reminded him of milk chocolate. Pale skin so light he nearly wondered if she was a vamp. Then he remembered her blood and his stomach tightened and complained of hunger. He was starving for her and something told him he wouldn’t be satisfied after one feeding.

Curves that were snug against him mere moments ago were hidden beneath bulky scrubs doctors and nurses wore, hiding her true shape from his gaze.

He remembered though. Would always remember.

Right now, Joce wanted a refresher course. His hands itched to touch her once more and he jerked against Griffin’s restraining hand before ripping free of Tybalt and punching the vamp in the face. The satisfying crunch of bone told him he’d succeeded in injuring his fellow protector.

No male—even another protector—should stand between a vampire and his
fi
—

“What is the meaning of this?” The speaker didn’t have to shout. He didn’t have to bellow or yell. He merely spoke at his normal, level tone and everyone listened.

None denied Carac. Their sovereign. Their leader.

The elder vampire strode into the room, his power pushing into the space and they all froze in place.

Even Joce’s little human.

His
little human. He liked the way those words sounded together.

“Liam? Griffin?” Carac’s attention flicked between the two males bracketing him and then settled on Joce. “Joce?”

He smirked. “It wasn’t me.” He tilted his head left and right. “I’m sure the fault can be laid at Liam or Giffin’s feet. All else fails, ask Tory.”

When Liam groaned at the mention of Victoria—Liam’s
fire
—he knew he’d found the culprit.

A
fire
. A woman destined to be the mate of a vampire. His other half. The fire that melted the ice in his soul. The reason his heart beat.

It sounded like a spew of poetic bullshit the first time Brom—another protector—uncovered a few passages in old texts. The vamp had a penchant for books and tended to find answers to problems within pages rather than in breaking faces. Though Brom did have a good time when he let his vampire nature free. It made Joce wonder why the man enjoyed staying away from blood and retreating to a library so often when he reveled in carnage.

Carac slowly turned his centuries-old attention to Liam and raised a single brow. “Liam?”

“I would like to state for the record—”

It was obvious the vampire spent entirely too much time with his
fire
. The woman was constantly getting into trouble and then spent just as much time trying to talk herself out of it.

“Liam,” Carac snapped. It wasn’t the sharp tone that had them all stiffening. It was the power, the pure strength that imbued the single syllable and demanded his word be obeyed.

“Joce left the manse this evening…”

Carac turned his attention to Joce and he shrugged. “Got a call from Vinnie.”

The quick flash in Carac’s eyes told Joce they’d be discussing his
friend
Vinnie later. Wasn’t Joce’s fault the protectors didn’t like getting their hands dirty. And by dirty, he wasn’t talking bloody. He was talking scummy humans with the stench of evil clinging to them so badly that it hurt to breathe their air. It was those evil humans who always had interesting answers though.

“…and he didn’t take his phone. But, he did have the slip of paper Tory gave him with her secure number. Someone called. We retrieved him, but he was in bad shape. So we,” Liam coughed and Joce realized this was where things must have gotten interesting courtesy of Tory. “We
encouraged
the good doctor to accompany us.”

Doctor
. Not a donor. A doctor. A human female brought to tend him and he’d nearly…

Shame. He hadn’t felt shame in a long time. Years. Decades. Over a century, surely.

Carac’s attention shifted from their small group to the doctor still huddling in the corner. “Doctor…”

“Bennett,” she wheezed and then cleared her throat. “Bennett. Katherine Bennett. Kate. People will be looking for me. Important people. Dangerous people.”

A small smile teased Carac’s lips and he found himself smiling as well. Important? Dangerous?

Compared to Carac, there was no one more important
or
dangerous. “I’m sure you feel that way, Dr. Bennett. I would like to apologize for the way in which you were brought to my humble home.”

Humble? Mansion. The man who’d grown up sleeping on bare ground now ensured he was surrounded by luxury and comfort at every turn. There was nothing humble about the manse.

“If you will excuse us for a moment, I would like to hear Joce’s report on his encounter with—”

A quick rap of knuckles on wood preceded Tory’s entrance. Staring at her hair and eyes, he wondered how long he’d been out of it. Last he remembered, Tory was wearing purple but she had red hair and eyes today. Then again, the woman swapped colors like a man changed boxers.

If he wore any. Joce didn’t, but…

“Yo, boss man. We have a visitor.”

She even popped her gum and grinned at the sovereign. As much as Carac grumbled and growled about the woman, he still hadn’t killed her and that said a lot. Either he liked Tory or he really didn’t want to lose Liam as a protector.

It was a toss-up.

“A visitor?” Carac murmured, but his attention remained on the doctor.

“Yes, old friend.” The new voice was a soft, husky murmur.

A few things happened in rapid succession and if he had blinked, he would have missed it.

Carac stiffened.

Katherine shouted and launched herself toward the door. “
Galla!
”

Which was followed by Carac’s murmured, “Important and dangerous.”

They all focused on the two women framed in the doorway, one tall and slender, dressed in layers of silk and delicate lace while the other was shorter and curved in all the right places, dressed in blood-splattered, puke green scrubs.

He wondered if that was his blood. Probably.

“Hello, dearling,” she whispered softly and then nudged Katherine into the hallway.

Then they were faced with a female vampire unlike any he’d ever seen. He’d heard stories of women losing touch with their humanity when something—someone—they loved was threatened, but he’d never witnessed such a thing. Based on the hatred and pure rage filling
Galla’s
eyes, he was about to.

Her voice was soft, lyrical even, but no less deadly serious. “Would you
please
explain why the child of my blood was sampled by one of yours, Letholdus? Would you
please
explain why she was taken from the safety of her profession and pulled into the middle of your war? Would you
please
point out who shall die for these offenses?”

She would do it, too. He saw the truth in her eyes. She would tear through Carac—once Letholdus—to get to whomever brought Katherine to the manse. And because Carac was their sovereign, he would take responsibility and protect his warriors to the end.

It was something he couldn’t allow. Joce wasn’t as old as the rest of the ring, wasn’t as highly skilled and tended to rip others to shreds without asking questions first. He was unneeded. Disposable. Unwanted at the best of times, reviled at the worst.

His fellow protectors, so taken with their new arrival, didn’t stop him when he pulled free and strode forward, placing himself between Carac and the female. “I beg the lady’s pardon for the transgression.”

Fall back on manners, right? Being polite tended to take the fun out of killing someone and he hoped he could distract her enough to figure out how a human was the blood-child of a vamp.

The vampiress, all midnight hair, red eyes, and near-white skin, glared at him. “You…”

She lifted her hand, claws at the ready, and he stilled himself as he waited for the blow. He would never—no matter his anger—strike a female. He deserved whatever Galla gave him.
He’d
been injured and Kate had done nothing but care for him, drawing the attention of the protectors which resulted in her kidnapping.

He’d
woken and made assumptions that resulted in Kate’s blood in his mouth. Even that tiny amount was enough to violate the law. Vampires didn’t take from the unwilling. Now that he scented the air and sought out Katherine’s aroma, he noted the other flavors that infiltrated the copper of her blood.

Kate was marked as another’s property.

This vampire’s pain and fury should lay on his shoulders alone and he would take whatever Galla deemed appropriate punishment.

But as she lowered her claw-tipped hand, those glistening nails poised to dig into his skin, a single voice, a single touch, a single movement saved him.

It was her—Dr. Kate Bennett—who darted back into the room, around the vampires, and placed her body between Joce and the furious woman. “Galla, no!”

When those razor sharp nails found flesh, it was not his own.

Joce did not question his actions, nor did he allow any to hinder him in his task. Screams erupted around him, roars from his fellow protectors and a high-pitched screech from Galla. Kate fell against him, the strength of Galla’s strike sending her tumbling backward and he caught her without thought. His fangs pressed forward as the lush scent of Katherine’s blood filled his nose, but he brushed aside the need to taste her. The red liquid poured from the deep gashes marring her human body, and he went into action as the violence of others suffused the space.

He immediately tore at his shirt, wrenching a piece of cloth free of his clothing and pressing it firmly to her face. He left it in place and swept her into his arms without hesitation. Then he carried her from the room, allowing Carac to handle the chaos left in his wake.

Joce had other tasks in mind—those that would save the human female. He would not acknowledge that something other than simply concern drove him. He would not look into his heart and know that the warmth filling his muscles came from Kate’s nearness.